Page 13

“Pardon, my lady,” Alice stopped her. The girl had lost both parents to a fire that had spread through the village, taking more lives than any cared to recall. It had been before Maisie came to the inn, but the “great fire” was a tragedy she’d heard of often. Living with her aunt, and now at the inn, the girl did not listen easily but Maisie still felt an affinity toward her, knowing of her turbulent past. Not yet ten and six, nearly ten summers younger than she, Alice was like a little sister to Maisie. Her own sister was long married, so Maisie had never quite known what a close sibling bond was like.

As her parents told Maisie often, she was not supposed to have been born. Both her brother and sister were married before she reached ten years, and they were as much strangers to her as the man who had stunned her this morn with his revelation.

He was staying.

Throughout the day, whenever Maisie thought of it, she was forced to attempt to slow her overly rapid beating heart at his proclamation. He was staying, though she knew not for how long.

“Is all well, Alice?”

The girl appeared concerned. “Of sorts. You asked that I speak with Harold about his debt.”

Ahh, Harold.

“And?”

“I did, my lady. He claims not to owe the inn any debt.”

“Of course he does.” She sighed. “I will speak to him. Is there aught else?”

“The new serving girl is still abed. She claims to be ill, but ‘tis the second illness”—Alice said the word as if she did not believe it—“in as many weeks. I believe she avoids the hall as night approaches.”

What an odd thing to say. “Night? I do not ken.”

Alice sighed. “As the men begin to . . .” Her eyes raised to the ceiling, as if Alice struggled to find the word.

But there was no need.

“I will speak to her as well.” And then, so that Alice did not judge the girl too harshly, “If you will remember when you began, how difficult it was with some of the men.”

“Was.” Alice laughed. “Is. There are some I still cannae control.”

“Ahh,” she said. “And therein is the problem. To think you can control a man deep in his cups. ‘Tis not possible, Alice. We can simply use the tools at our disposal to avoid them. And one of those is to listen when your mistress tells you not to walk past MacBrannigan.”

“I am sorry for that, my lady. I forgot he sat there for a moment, and hurried to refill a pitcher of ale at the table next to them.”

“Aye, but there are some men you must be more vigilant with than others. And he is one of them.”

Alice smiled. “But the one who defended you. What a man, indeed.”

The maid was not too young to appreciate Kieran’s fine qualities. And though Maisie silently agreed, she did not dare speak it aloud. “I was fortunate he came to my aid. I do fear we’ve not seen the last of MacBrannigan, though.” Then, realizing what she said, Maisie quickly covered her words. “But ’tis not for you to fret over. Simply avoid the man if he comes to the Red Stag again.”

“Aye, my lady.”

“Is there anything else to report?” she asked.

“Nay, my lady.” With a bob of her head, Alice scurried away.

Maisie went about finishing her duties. She spoke to Harold and the new serving girl. She ensured all was prepared for the evening, in the kitchen and the hall, and then stepped outside for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tilted her face upwards. The sun had set, the chill in the air remaining. Maisie should have grabbed a cloak first before heading out of doors.

“You shiver.”

Her eyes popped open, as the deep voice, so close to her, was already a familiar one. Kieran had returned.

As he’d done the day before, he removed his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“I had not planned to remain out of doors long,” she said, accepting his offer. “’Twas a busy day, and I simply wished for a bit of respite.”

“Then a respite you shall have. Will you walk with me?”